31 AccidentShipping Snapshots
by Red-Like-Lithium
Summary: 31 AccidentShipping prompts centered around one word each chapter that I will be accepting from readers. So please read, review, and drop a prompt idea for our dear pairing, IV x Rio! - Chapter 26: Mirrors
1. Bandages

_A/N: I've started a collection of AccidentShipping one-shots/drabbles. There will be a total of 31 when I'm done^^_

_But in order to finish, I'll need prompts from the readers! In your reviews (if you're kind enough) please leave a one word prompt (well, could be more than one word, but try to keep it simple^^). Could be anything, though I'd like to keep it rated T and lower. So please read, review, and drop a quick prompt that I will try to give you in future chapters! Only one word a review so I don't get swamped, if that's ok? I've started this out with the one below~_

* * *

**1**

**Bandages**

* * *

Rio is used to bandages.

There was a time when her entire body had been wrapped in them, strangled in their hold; she couldn't _escape_. A time when her form was stiff and _burning_ from the rough clothe pressing against her singed skin, increasing that oh so familiar pain. It was a time when she couldn't even cry without it hurting, without the salty tears stinging as they ran down her cheeks and the heaves of her sobbing chest aching.

Therefore, Rio has taught herself to be strong.

It's little things now. The bandages no longer shield her gaze from the world or tie around her hips, her arms, down to her ankles and up to her neck. Sure, she'll nick her finger on the edge of a paper at times or trip and scrape her knees (but no one needs to know about that). However, the dressing it takes to heal those insignificant little cuts are minimum.

It's when she accidentally breaks her wrist that the memories flood back in an overwhelming wave of discomfort.

Ryouga has already been notified, and he'd practically screamed on the phone that he was on his way. His sister merely rolls her eyes at his worry.

"Such a moron," she chuckles, lowering the cell with her good hand and flicking it off. She looks up at the boy who had brought her to the hospital, smiling. "Don't you think?"

His arms are folded over his chest while he sits in a nearby chair, legs crossed in a no-nonsense fashion. His maroon stare is cast toward the ground absentmindedly. When he hears her speak, the boy snaps his head up in attention. "Sorry, what was that?"

"Thomas," Rio sighs heavily, "I asked if you agree that Ryouga's an idiot. Are you alright?"

Actually, he appears to be the exact opposite. The way his eyebrows are knitted and his fingers are clenched against his cream and gold sleeves are unsettling indications. Thomas had been there when she'd so stupidly gotten herself injured. His lips are angled in a scowl, jaw noticeably clenched, shoulders hunched slightly.

And then she gets it.

Yes, it sucks to be back in this gauze that's pushed even closer to her flesh by the itchy cast. But Rio can live with it, knows she has to be tough to meet her reputation - she cannot afford to break down over this, she's been through much worse. Yet it's then when she recalls that it was the Arclight family who had landed her in that "worse" state of health.

Rio has _never_ blamed Thomas.

Despite that fact that _he _blames _himself_.

"Oh, Thomas...," she whispers, letting the name linger on her tongue. The painkillers have left her head a little foggy, but it's clear enough to make the connection.

With shaky steps that she steadies, Rio stands and moves to be next to him, placing her adept palm on his shoulder and squeezing her fingers against it. She leans forward a little and holds her broken wrist out in front of him. Thomas winces.

"See this?" Rio murmurs. "This is going to heal. Like everything else."

He looks like he's trying to smile, but he's failing miserably, and gently, carefully, she snakes her arms around him, pulling his head into the crook of her neck. It isn't much. She knows with all of her being that this shattered young man will never be able to forgive himself, _trust_ himself. No matter how much she wishes he would, it's an unspoken knowledge that he simply _can't_.

All Rio wants to do is embrace his splintering heart with the bandages that had once saved her.

* * *

_~Finish~_


	2. Regret

_A/N: Prompt from a _Guest_ reviewer. Thank you! Please drop a few more, guys, I need some fluffier words, too~ This contains some spoilers._

* * *

**2**

**Regret**

* * *

.

.

He should have told her those three things.

He should have told her.

He should have.

.

.

**1.**

She's in for a check-up, something she has scheduled three times a month and every other week; it's like a therapy session to make sure her burns are healed and her body is functioning correctly. Ryouga usually takes her, but today - according to her brother - she had wanted to go alone to prove she could be independent.

But despite her wish, someone joined Rio in her assigned room at the Rehabilitation Center this Saturday morning. She is on the second floor in room 205, two rooms over from the elevator entrance. The Burn Unit is semi-connected to the hospital where she had once been residing after the fire. Rio still has to come by so the doctors can be absolutely positive that she's recovered.

For the certain someone visiting her, the place makes him shudder and laugh nervously to himself.

His dark eyes trail the numbers on the doors, one by one, picking out the three-digits he wants. With a quivering hand that he clenches to stiffen, he knocks his knuckles against the flat entryway roughly.

"Yes?"

He pushes it open slowly, muscles aching after the hours he'd spent back home, slamming his fist against the walls and pacing as he tried to make a damn decision. But he was here now; may as well follow through with it.

IV stands before the girl he'd nearly killed that night in the alleyway and gazes at her with a sad, guilty stare - one that's left damaged after his attempt to rescue her. He clasps his hands behind his back politely and takes in the details of her surprised face. She has soft skin and a nice complexion. Her eyes are maroon, much like his own, only a shade lighter. Her hair has grown back nicely, thick and lush.

IV opens his mouth, ready to say it - it's been built up inside of him for so damn long and he can't wait anymore - and is cut off.

"It's alright," Rio whispers, a genuine smile gracing her pink lips. "You don't have to say anything. It's alright."

And he doesn't. The_ 'I'm so, so sorry...' _dies in his throat the moment she tells him he's been forgiven. It's obvious anyway. She understands his regret as the tear escapes his shut lids, sliding down along the scar that dirties his cheek - the one she'd given him while clawing desperately for something to save her.

.

.

**2.**

They were holding a dinner party for the winners of the World Duel Carnival, and everyone who had participated were invited. About a month late, but hey, Heartland was suffering from the loss of their favorite psychopathic, green-haired announcer.

At first, IV hadn't even wanted to go. Actually, he was _still_ against the whole idea of it, but his brothers dragged him along anyway. Fancy social gatherings were not something IV particularly enjoyed, and he was defiant until the very end, going as far as to anchor himself to the doorway while V pulled him outside.

Naturally, his older sibling went out of his way to look professional. His long, silver hair cascaded down his back in a fashion that IV kinda wanted to poke fun at. III, on the other hand, wasn't all that 'mature -like'. And although he wasn't 'sexy' or anything, he did look admittedly adorable.

But IV - he felt ridiculous.

All three of them wore classic black suits and ties, his own being a deep red color. All he wanted was his signature coat or a pair of jeans but _no_, he had to be _pretty_.

So here he is, standing awkwardly by the food table, sipping on some punch and ignoring a trio of fangirls off to the side and Ryouga's scowling at him, watching V interact with that guy Kaito and III make a few new friends while he does absolutely nothing productive. Oh the joy~

"You look like you're having a blast," a tone laced with sarcasm says to his right.

IV nearly leaps out of his skin.

Rio is next to him, pursing her lips and lifting a brow at him while she pores herself a glass of the flavored drink. She smirks at him, adding, "You're rather jumpy tonight."

He frowns, at a loss for words as he clumsily avoids his gaze.

"You look good," Rio says, putting her index finger to her chin thoughtfully. "You clean up well."

It takes a moment for that to register as compliment and IV fumbles over his words. He still has no clue how to act around this lady and his tongue won't form the sentences he wants it to. Rio giggles at his stumble and tries to stifle it, like she feels it's rude.

Then IV stands back to look at her - actually _look_ at her - after he finally thanks her. Rio is wearing an indigo dress that reaches her knees and stops in carefully measured ruffles. The fabric is tighter around her hips, waist, and above, ending in spaghetti straps over her shoulders. He blinks rapidly when he realizes he's being a little creepy and she snickers again.

"Oi, Rio!" The voice belongs to her brother, and Rio immediately turns to pout at IV.

"Sorry, I'll be back later!" And with that, she's off rushing to Ryouga's side, her punch left on the table, forgotten.

IV's hand is outstretched, and he quickly recoils in disgust at himself, regretting as he grinds his teeth. His soft _'You look nice, too'_ is left for the empty space where she'd once been to heed.

.

.

**3.**

His fingers couldn't grasp her in time as the portal to the other world opened wide, gaping with an ominous, dim light, and pulled her form into its deep depths of alien atmosphere. His fist had closed, holding nothing but thin air. His heart had frozen over, layered by the ice of her forced pitch and the frigid glint in her eyes.

And only moments before, he'd been embracing her.

"Last I heard, you were in urgent care again."

Rio whips around to stare at him with wide, disbelieving eyes. They're damp and unsure, and he feels the need to wipe the threatening tears away, but he stays a safe distance from her.

"What are you doing here?" IV asks, shoving his hands in his pockets like he couldn't give less of a damn about the withering planet closing in on them.

The girl bites her lower lip, glaring at him dangerously. "Get out of here, IV."

He lifts a brow and smirks, feeling that familiar pang of his scar. "I'll leave when I'm good and ready. I always say a good scene needs a little fanservice, so here I am." Normally she would have laughed at that, but Rio is in a fowl state at the moment.

But then, that's what happens when you find out that your entire life is a lie.

The buildings around them are desolate, empty, crumbling in some places, like ruins from ancient times out of III's deck. It's scary to know that everything they've known, known as a _home_, is turning into nothing more than a Satellite of decay. IV scratches the back of his head, expression becoming gentler. He knows what it's like to lose everything. So maybe - just maybe - he can relate to Rio a little.

"I'm sorry, IV," she whispers, only barely audible. "But I _have_ to."

"You don't have to say anything," he insists quietly, recalling those same words being spoken to him once. "It's alright."

Hesitantly, he moves over to her, wrapping his arms around her smaller form and pulling her close while she finally lets go of the sorrow she's been suppressing. Her body, with burn remains hiding beneath her clothes (he's seen them, she's lifted her blouse to show him), is wracked with sobs that she tries to smother. He could say a million things to her right now, but only one sticks out in his mind, and he wants to murmur it in her ear, but she's pulling away from him suddenly.

"I don't want to have to hurt you," she gasps harshly, eyes petrifying and still watering. The mask comes over her face, and her appearance alters into something alien. He isn't surprised by this, but it still rattles his core as the Barian backs away from him.

The gateway swirls into view behind her and she begins to step inside.

"Rio!" IV screams, rushing forward and trying to grip her arms. But she's gone now, on a different end of the war, a place where he can't touch her, can't hug her, can't even _see_ her. His lungs seem to contract as the air stops flowing inside him, he can't breathe, his skin is numb, everything feels so out of place, so _wrong_.

Rio - Merag - hadn't even glanced back.

"You're not a monster!" he shouts into the crackling streets of Heartland - regretful words that no one will ever hear but IV himself.

.

.

_~Finish~_


	3. Gift

_A/n: Prompt given by_ Yes_. Thank you! I appreciate reviews~_

* * *

**3**

**Gift**

* * *

When she kicks his ass in their rematch, IV just gapes at her, astonished and at a loss for words.

Rio lowers her Duel Disk and smirks, tossing her hair from her face and straightening her posture. On steps that are nearly prancing with her victory, she joins his side, narrowing her gaze at him. Triumph is written there, and her opponent merely shakes his head, still flabbergasted.

"How did...?" IV trails off, shuffling his deck absentmindedly as he shoots her a confused glance.

Rio grins at him wider. "It's a gift."

* * *

They're playing an old Japanese game called _Shougi_. It takes severe concentration and strategy, like Dueling, so IV figures he's pretty good at it. He has beaten his brothers several times, which is quite the feat considering V and III are his siblings.

So when Rio points to the board and asks if he knows how to play, his mouth curls into a smile as he states matter-of-factly, "It'd be poor fanservice if I didn't."

The girl lifts an eyebrow at him and offers to take him on in a quick match. Naturally, being the man he is, IV accepts this challenge immediately.

When she defeats him with smoke practically rising off the pieces, she says with a sickly sweet voice, "It's a gift."

* * *

"How did you manage to heal so fast?" he dares to ask once.

She peers over at him, stretching her arm expertly, easily. The doctor just left and they're alone in the Burn Unit room, there for a quick therapy session. It's the last one she'll ever need to attend, and she had decided to bring IV along for the prideful ride.

Rio huffs and he already knows what she's going to say, so he glares out the window, crossing his arms as he waits.

"It's a gift~" she chides.

* * *

"I'll race you back," Rio blinks at him.

"The hell, I just got here and you're already trying to embarrass me?"

The Kamishiro sister just shrugs, swinging her book bag over her shoulder haphazardly and running off down the sidewalk and skidding around the corner. IV scowls after her, fully aware that he's already lost, and takes off after her halfheartedly. She touches the door to her and Ryouga's home first, and is about to say her trademark sentence when he touches her lips to silence her, breathing heavily, and mutters, "Shut up."

"It's a gift," she growls around his hand.

* * *

IV shows up on her door first thing that Saturday morning. He's memorized her schedule by now and has a good idea of when she wakes up on the weekend. So the boy stands at her entrance and taps his knuckles against the polished wood. He keeps his hands behind his back, shuffling awkwardly and chuckling when he hears a feminine tone shouting at her brother indignantly.

Rio swings it open and stares at IV suspiciously. "What's up?"

He tilts his head and pulls his hidden palm into view. Rio bats her eyelashes rapidly at the sight as he holds out the little box wrapped in purple with a pretty bow on top. The note on it reads: _To the Birthday Girl_.

IV laughs out loud as she blushes deeply and declares, "It's a gift."

* * *

_~Finish~_


	4. Laughter

_A/n: Prompt given by_ Konig der Something-or-other _(stop changing your name~)__. Thank you:) I appreciate reviews~ Enjoy mah drabble._

* * *

**4**

**Laughter**

* * *

He's already awkwardly shaken hands with The Barian Lord Nasch - wait, he's Ryouga again...right? - and spoken a few words with him. His old friend tries to express his regret but he's immediately cut off by the Arclight boy's raised hand. IV holds no grudge against this alien human who had obviously suffered so much.

It's when he is with Ryouga's sister that things get somewhat more complicated.

All IV can think about when they're cut off from everyone else and away from the crowd is how refreshing it is to see her old face. She isn't masked by her otherworldly body anymore - there's her mouth, her cute nose, and the humane glow to her eyes.

They're sitting on a wooden bench together in the park, just the two of them, while pedestrians enjoy the beautiful weather around them - and to think this is the aftermath of a chaotic war. IV leans back into the support, sighing heavily and allowing his lids to fall closed a moment.

"I-"

"-Don't wanna hear it," he yawns rather loudly. Shifting his weight to get a little more comfortable, IV peers over at her lazily. He's still a bit sore, muscles stiff and aching, and the back of his neck is killing him. After all, he _had_ awaken to find himself sprawled on the tar road, battered, beaten, exhausted. His brothers had had to find him and practically carry him back to their home.

Rio stammers at him, clenching her hands in her lap. "I just..."

"I already told you," IV reiterates, sitting up straight once more, smirking over at her. "We're all okay, so don't be sorry and don't feel guilty."

She knits her eyebrows uneasily, fingers quivering as she tries to control them. IV frowns, mentally slapping himself for handling the situation like this. In all honestly, he doesn't want this whole ordeal to be a big thing. He wants all of them to forget about it, pretend like nothing ever happened, pretend like their bonds were never severed. _Terrible fanservice_, he thinks coldly, pinching his thigh through his pants.

Hesitantly, the young man lifts his arm and grasps Rio's shoulder gently, and she turns to stare at him with a wide gaze brimming with questioning. IV brushes her bangs away softly, moving toward her. She gasps silently as he presses his lips against her forehead, as if kissing a bruise better. When he pulls away, he grins sheepishly, and she can't suppress the snicker. Even after her palm smothers her face, clearly embarrassed, Rio simply cannot stop laughing.

Soon enough, IV finds himself joining in, lungs hurting from the _sobs_ of amusement. He even hits his knee, attempting to calm down. Rio rests her head in the crook of his neck, curling up to ease the pains in her abdomen. She doesn't cease her laughter, though.

Because really, what else are they going to do?

* * *

_~Finish~_


	5. Mortician

_A/N: Prompt from _Blackwing Fray the Huntress_. Thank you...? (Lol, she didn't think I'd actually do it. Probably won't even read it, anyway.) Enjoy~_

_Note: Completely AU. Rated T for some light swearing and religious topics. I think I crossed some lines ehehheh...:/ Tread with caution? Probably. I don't think it's _that_ bad... I had wayyy too much fun writing this._

* * *

**5**

**Mortician**

* * *

He is the soul who brings the dead to their final resting place, the undertaker of the lost, the servant of both the Devil and God themselves. He looks the part, too, with a long scar gashing over one of his dark maroon eyes. He has to look formal, according to the Big Guy in the Sky, so he wears a suit. He has to look threatening, according to the Bitch from the Underground, so his attire is completely black - including his undershirt and tall socks. And he's pretty good at acting upon the demon and the angle he has to be. He's polite to his tag-a-longs while holding a daunting air behind him.

His hair is the color of gold, like the halos above pure spirit's forms, and also the color of scarlet, like the blood that condemned criminals spill on asphalt floors.

He is simply the messenger of Heaven and Hell.

This is how it has been for many years - so many that the book called the Bible can't even record them - and it is how it will be for many to come - so many that not even the Aztecs could have dreamt up a number.

So when he shows up at the funeral with his hands buried in his pockets and one leg crossed over the other, leaned in one of the many chairs lined neatly in the room, black slouched, he knows it'll be an ordinary day.

But...he's been wrong before.

It's a tradition for the deceased individual to attend their own funeral. Whether they like it or not. The embalmer of sorts folds his arms across his chest as the ghost takes a seat beside him in the empty space to his right. It's a girl, like his last client, who had been a fifty-year-old. But this one, she's about sixteen, and he cringes.

The emissary hates getting young people.

He is in a million places at once, a demigod almost, a prophet; right now, he's sitting in about 40,000 plus other ceremonies, attentively focusing on each one like every inch of him is there. He's speaking with an elderly man about his granddaughter, playfully patting a child's head, patiently scowling as he listens to a former businessman yap about how his yacht was left behind. He keeps telling him that they can't haul a fricken boat to the afterlife, but he apparently isn't registering.

But _this_ girl has brought forth his consciousness just a little more.

He sees hot women all the time and they usually don't leave much of an impression. After roughly 56 million people a year, they kinda blend together into one big, insignificant blur.

He racks his memory a moment. "Kamishiro Rio, right?"

"And who are you?" she snaps, straightening her spine. "Another dead guy?"

"What, already getting some grim reapers interested in your ass?"

He's not expecting her to punch him that hard, but she certainly gets her point across and he shuts up. The female named Rio sits back against the cheap cushion, frowning deeply. "It's weird," she murmurs. "Attending your own funeral."

"If you wanna make things even stranger, go and check out your body," he suggests - half joking - and taps his dress shoe against the polished floor absentmindedly.

"You never answered my question," she sighs.

He lifts a thick brow at her. "Call me your own personal mortician."

Rio apparently isn't amused but he smirks anyway, reclining a little more. Just because his bosses say he should be professional doesn't mean he has to be every second of every day of every decade. After a moment, Rio turns away, and at first he thinks she's talking to herself. "My brother is here. I hope he'll be alright."

"I can answer that if you like."

She jerks her head to stare at him, gaze intent and admittedly intimidating. "You can really do that?"

"Why not?" he shrugs, uninterested as he stifles a yawn. "God and Satan are good buddies of mine, I can pull a few strings." At that thought, he sits forward, balancing his elbows on his knees and allowing a long, wire thread materialize in between his fingers. Rio purses her lips at him while he fiddles with the strand.

"Odd hobby."

"You tend to obtain them after a few centuries." He peers over at her and smiles. "Your brother's going to be fine, by the way. It'll take a while, but he'll figure things out."

She pauses, considering his words carefully, searching for signs of him lying. "...Thank you."

When the service comes to a close, Rio wanders around the crowd of people come to see her off. Her mortician trails along behind her, giving her enough space. The last time he'd crowded someone at an event like this, they'd strangled him. Not a process to be repeated.

Therefore, he bids her a wide berth as she listens to a conversation between her mother and best friend (so affirmed his information provided). Stays a few meters away as she grins at her father's story about the time she'd first ridden a bike. Turns his back as she cups her brother's cheek tenderly and tells him to stay safe while she's gone.

"What now?" Rio asks quietly.

They're outside of the building at this point, leaned against a rusty railing off to the side of the parking lot. He twists the string that wraps around his fingers and palms - it's a habit that he finds clears his mind when he's feeling a little overwhelmed. It happens when you're carrying on thousands of conversations all at once. He's twirling the twine around his thumb right here, in Amsterdam, in New York, over in Guinea, Ust'-Kan, Lenzburg. _Many_ places, even Pagonérion and somewhere in Quebec.

He blinks slowly. "I check up on your sin list and ship you off somewhere."

"_Che_," she shakes her head. "And how does that work?"

"Actually," he stands up in a better posture and allows the string to fade, "I just finished."

"...And?"

He peeks at her questioningly. "What are you worried about?"

"Well, wouldn't you be a little on edge if an intruder was searching through all your secrets?" Rio retorts, moving so her attention is directed away from him.

"I only look at what I have to," he promises, dipping his chin and placing his fists in his pockets again. "Nothing more, nothing less." She knits her eyebrows, concerned, and gazes at the grass. Her mortician breathes out heavily. "You're clean. Looks like He gets a new resident."

Rio muses at that. "Then you'll be taking me there?"

He frowns thoughtfully. "It's a one-way trip. You won't even remember the travel; just open your eyes and find yourself there. Hell, I don't even have the privilege of mingling up there _or_ down below, so you may not even recall meeting me for all I know."

"That's...very sad," she whispers, pity lacing her tone. Her blue hair buffets in the breeze and the stars illuminate her pink eyes in a way that makes her rather attractive. In another universe, maybe they could have been friends. But she's dead, a phantom, an essence of life without a solid anatomy. He's the creep who drags those who are no longer living to an eternity of either bliss or damnation. It doesn't work to have relationships with _anybody_.

"I've been like this for as long as I can think backwards," he laughs bitterly. "I'm used to it."

Rio appears angered by that. "It's not fair."

"Perhaps," her mortician lifts his shoulders, not wanting to argue. He's already bickering with a cranky lady with too much makeup in Moscow and having a dispute with a teenage gang member over in Phoenix. He's just _done_. "Hey," he starts. "If I can...I'll try and ask the Almighty if I can visit you once or twice. Sound good?"

At that, she beams at him through the sorrow evident in her face. "I'd like that."

It might be because - even though he's in the presence of so many humans at the moment - he's lacked so much personal contact for far too long. He may be desperate or whatever, sick of being deprived of the touch of skin, the taste of tears, the feeling of _love_. She's no different from the others, he keeps telling himself this, but contrary to his better judgement, the servant of two sides reaches and presses his fingers against her exposed collarbone.

Rio raises her eyes to stare at him, a bit surprised.

"My name's Thomas," he tells her in a soft voice, avoiding her line of vision. "Haven't told anyone that for, like, a millennium... But to you, I'll always just be your own personal mortician."

Rio can't help but giggle at that as she leans forward and pecks him on the cheek affectionately. "Thanks for everything, Thomas."

When she's gone, out of his grasp forever, he sits back, thinking about how he outta get the heck over to Austria. He replays the vow he'd made to her over and over - the one he'll never be able to fulfill. Then he groans and brushes off his tux, checking his appearance in the funeral home's window briefly, and makes his way down the tar of the street while cars pass right through him, neglecting to honk their horns at the invisible obstacle.

He'll be back tomorrow for the next scheduled commemoration.

* * *

_~Finish~_


	6. Smile

_A/N: Prompt from _Droite_. Thank you!_

_Yeah, I went there. (You'll see why when you read.)_

* * *

**6**

**Smile**

* * *

When she gets a puppy for her birthday, Rio knows she'll love it for the rest of their days together.

"What did you name the runt?" Ryouga asks when all of the guests have gone, leaning over the side of the couch where she and the tiny Beagle are cuddling. His sister keeps tickling the animal's ear, making it whine and bite playfully at her just-out-of-reach finger.

Rio glances at him and smirks sheepishly. "No clue yet."

The boy shrugs, not really caring and wandering off toward the kitchen to grab something to snack on. She turns her attention back down at the bundle of hyper on her lap. The pup seems to grin up at her, tongue lolling and eyes sparking mischievously.

.

.

"So you're telling me that you've had this thing for three days now and you haven't given it a name?" Thomas questions in an extremely flat tone as he watches the puppy sniff his boot.

Rio frowns thoughtfully. "I know...I haven't thought up the perfect name, though. Nothing seems to fit right."

The visitor scowls, considering that. "Just pick one. Maybe a standard title, like Max or Bruno. Or you could be like a celebrity and call it something completely wacko; like Purple Pineapple or Quattro."

"Who the hell names someone _Quattro_?" Rio snaps, crossing her arms to add effect. "That's stupid. I'm _not_ calling my dog that, Thomas."

He raises his shoulders in defeat, making a weird face. "I tried." It's completely sarcastic, but she decides to dismiss it.

Rio purses her lips skeptically at him, but forgets their strange little...whatever it was, when the nameless puppy jumps up, pawing at her leg. She makes a squealing noise at the sheer adorableness and Thomas blows a raspberry. Ignoring him, the Kamishiro girl kneels onto the carpeted floor and scoops the baby dog into her arms, lovingly rubbing his scruff and accepting the slobbery kisses on her cheeks. "You're so sweet~" Rio giggles as the Beagle yips.

Thomas hasn't said anything; his chin is resting on the palm of his hand while his expression appears irritated.

"What's wrong with you?" Rio chides, shuffling to her feet once more, still holding her new little companion.

Her boyfriend shrugs, arms crossed. He's glaring at the opposite wall awkwardly, one side of his mouth puffed out indignantly. There's a light flush to his face and she lifts an eyebrow confusedly. Rio considers his attitude a moment when it suddenly dawns on her.

"Don't tell me...," she begins, trying to hide the amusement in her voice, "that you're _jealous_ of the _dog_?"

Thomas hunches up and grimaces, blushing red. Rio chokes on a wave of laughter and eventually can't force it down anymore. She bursts out snickering, which quickly evolves into all out cracking up. He narrows his gaze, clearly embarrassed with himself and at the fact that she'd noticed.

"You're unbelievable," Rio comments, moving next to him and placing the puppy in his arms. Thomas tries to retort, but is soon cradling the thing in one arm, glowering down at it sourly.

He peeks up at his girlfriend and smirks. "I'm just _that_ desperate."

She playfully smacks him on the shoulder and the Beagle barks - high-pitched - and he winces dramatically. Rio spins on her heel mockingly, back facing him. She hears him standing and holds back a squeak when his arms snake around her waist and his breath pasts by her ear.

"Fine, the creature _is_ kinda cute," Thomas offers, nibbling her lobe teasingly. "But not as cute as your smile."

She slaps her forehead at the cheap comment and throws her weight backwards so they stumble onto the couch, Thomas on the bottom, the animal on top. "I'm going to name him Smile," Rio declares, patting the pup's ears. "You inspired me."

Thomas sighs loudly, shaking his head as Smile crawls over and licks his nose.

.

.

_~Finish~_


	7. Promise

_A/N: Prompt given by_ Yes_. Thank you:) I appreciate reviews if you're kind enough~_

_Don't mind me, I'm just trying to bring back this ship. This is slightly AU at the beginning, I dunno, I pulled some strings and stretched the truth for the sake of fluff. It's a good cause. As for _Miri_, I hope to have a 'proposal' chapter soon! Please be patient;^; I want to make it as creative as possible and my imagination is failing me right now._

* * *

**7**

**Promise**

* * *

The day they first met, Rio was six and Thomas was nine years old.

He was an older boy, one who was taller and practically loomed over the Kamishiro daughter. With wide, pink eyes, she kept staring innocently over at him. Ryouga, on the other hand, was much braver. He was crossing his arms over his chest and marching bravely up beside the bigger kid. He continued to sneak suspicious glances over at this Arclight child, who just frowned back.

When the grown-ups were out of the room, leaving the younger people to 'get to know each other', Ryouga finally got up the courage to actually speak. "So who are you?"

The maroon-and-blonde-haired son of the stranger in their house shrugged. "My name's Thomas. What's yours?"

Rio's brother was obviously not impressed with this intruder to their home, but accepted the fact that he was staying for dinner. Eventually, he wandered off, leaving his twin to fend for herself while their mother called him to help out in the kitchen.

Thomas peered over at her while they sat on the couch and grinned wide. "So what's _your_ name?"

She winced, caught by surprise at his addressing her, and fiddled with her dress fabric in her lap. "R-Rio. Rio."

"I heard ya the first time," he insisted, scooting closer to her. He seemed nice enough, a little crazy like all boys were, but Rio still wasn't sure about him. Yeah, she was more than happy to boss around her sibling or her friends at school, that wasn't an issue. But males who she didn't know and were older than her - that was a different story.

So when he came nearer, Rio moved away an equal distance.

Thomas pursed his lips, confused by her actions, but not pushing it. For a juvenile no more than forty-seven inches tall, he seemed to read others pretty well. Rio felt bad only seconds later for - _had_ she offended him? She didn't know, but it didn't sit right in her tummy.

"You...you won't hurt me, right?"

Thomas' eyebrows raised real high, like he was uncertain of why she'd even ask that. After a moment, though, he smiled in that way he did, with all teeth showing. He held out his hand, balling all of his fingers into a fist except his pinky. Rio hesitated, then reached out and linked her own with his.

"Promise!"

.

.

* * *

.

.

When the paramedics are whisking her away, shouting orders at each other and hurriedly fastening a gas mask over her lips, he gazes down blankly at his hand as his pinky lifts above his closing fingers and he whispers a soft apology for breaking his promise under his breath; he can feel the blood escaping the new wound on his face, staining the flesh with his sin.

.

.

_~Finish~_


	8. Proposal

_A/N: Prompt given by_ Miri_. Thank you:) PLEASE review if you like it~_

_Like I promised, here we go! I tried to be creative;^; Alternative Title for this is _Counting Stars._  
_

* * *

**8**

**Proposal**

* * *

The reflected lights blurring in her bright, magenta eyes make her even more beautiful that night - if that was even possible.

Underneath his skin, the grass is something between soft and rough as his palm rubs against the ground they rest on. There's no wind, not even the weakest of breezes, so the air is still, pleasant, quiet. Above their heads, the sky is ink black with thousands - _millions_ of stars scattered strategically among it. It's a sight one doesn't get to see back in the city, where light pollution and smog erase everything over the horizon, leaving a dark, dull grey.

It's refreshing.

Thomas frowns to himself uneasily as his girlfriend jabbers on about - damnit, he'd stopped listening. _Smile and nod!_ he thinks quickly when she glances at him for a reply. Rio appears satisfied as he agrees with whatever she'd just said and he smirks inwardly. _Nailed it._

It's not his fault that he's so distracted...okay, maybe it is. But Thomas mentally slaps himself to clear his mind and takes a deep, soundless breath to calm his nerves.

When Rio has settled down significantly, finally at a loss for conversation, her long-time boyfriend lifts his right arm toward the heavens. Sprawled on the floor comfortably, she raises a brow curiously. With his index finger, Thomas points at the North Star. "See it?"

Rio purses her lips, puzzled but interested, and nods. "Yes."

"That was the first star to show up in the whole sky the night we first made out," he insists with a low chuckle in his tone.

Rio laughs and smacks his abdomen playfully. "You're making that up."

"Am not!" he retorts, acting offended.

"Liar~"

Thomas shrugs, smirking. He motions at something else, waiting for the woman next to him to look in that particular direction. In a serene sort of voice, careful not to shatter the flawless atmosphere they invade, he murmurs, "If you use your imagination, that group over there forms the constellation Cygnus, which was a swan from Greek mythology."

"You seem to be trying to prove a point," Rio thinks aloud, grinning with anticipation.

"Of course," Thomas chirps, stretching his stiffening limbs slightly. His foot had gotten numb and he moved to get the blood flowing again. "Cygnus was at its peak the evening you and I broke the news to Ryouga that we were dating."

She bursts out in gasps of amusement, clutching her stomach at the humorous memory.

Smiling, he directs his line of vision to another stretch of the visible universe. "And over that way is Capricornus. He was watching that midnight when we stayed up to see the fireworks."

"I remember that!" Rio exclaims, suddenly excited. "We wanted to see the Explosives Show at about twelve o'clock that night and you fell asleep at _least_ three times."

Thomas blushes deeply, somewhat embarrassed now. Being discreet as his hands work to his blind side, he keeps talking. "Do you recall that early morning when we got up hours before our alarm and watched the comet?" His words are formal, in a fashion that implies he's a genius or a telemarketer or something like that. Rio hums in acknowledgement as he continues. "That time, _you_ fell asleep _five_ times before it arrived." She scowls, but the twinkle in her eye is rather noticeable.

His left hand slips into his pocket and he prays she doesn't hear or see the movement.

Using his right still, Thomas ushers for her to peer up at a particularly bright white-blue speck in the vast twilight canvas. "That star is named Vega."

"...And...?"

The man beams over at her. "I don't have a story for that one yet."

"You must," Rio tells him, as if in a state of denial. "There's _always_ a tale from you. You love astronomy."

Thomas simpers to himself. And that's because every syllable he's allowed to leave his mouth so far has been nothing but the truth. He's been locking these events in his head for years, never forgetting a second of their hours together beneath the unending stretch of unexplored outer space. Slowly, he sighs. "...Alright. I may have one."

Rio immediately shifts to another position so she can listen more intently. Her partner and the boy she loves so dearly places his right fist behind his upper neck for better support.

"I know a guy...who asked the lady he was madly and desperately in love with a very important question under the shine of Vega. He took her out to eat at her favorite restaurant and they enjoyed simply being alone as a couple for the rest of their outing."

Rio is staring at him now, eyebrows knitted.

"That night, as they lay together reminiscing, sharing anecdotes, relaxing, and just having fun, he popped that question..."

The shooting star that is streaking across the sky had caught both of their attention. There was no possible way he could have planned such a phenomena, yet Thomas leaps for it, playing off of that beautiful, lucky son of a bitch that appeared at the exact perfect millisecond.

"-When the meteorite flew by, lighting up their moment like a cheap Disney movie-" Rio stifles a nervous giggle, completely on edge currently. He gulps but keeps his throat from going hoarse. "-he leaned over,-"

Thomas rolls onto his side so he can stare her straight in her star-reflectant eyes.

"-and he asked his soul mate something that would change their lives forever."

Removing his hand from behind his back, he holds it above their bodies in between them as they lay there. Tied to his fourth finger is a thin, red string that dangles right before their faces. At the end of it is a shimmering, gold ring. It's delicate, with two diamonds decorating it. Both gems are encased by each side of an infinity sign, bonding the stones into a single, silvery setting.

Thomas whispers, "I promise to have a much more interesting story for Vega," he notes the tears welling behind her lids, "if you, Kamishiro Rio, will marry me...?"

For a terrible heartbeat, she is utterly silent, the only noise in the grassy field being the pounding in his chest that roars in his ears. For a wonderful lifetime, she smiles through the salty rain that cascades down her flushing cheeks and almost squeaks, "Yes... Yes, yes, I will marry you!"

Relief swells in Thomas's chest as he briefly wonders how his future brother-in-law will accept this announcement. He reaches out and embraces his official fiancée, who is still crying happy sobs. Rio calls him a "_sap_" before pressing her lips against his.

They kiss beneath their seal of engagement, which hangs from that red string of fate while Vega casts its light down on the finished story.

* * *

_~Finish~_


	9. Remorse

_A/N: Prompt from _Guest_._

* * *

**9**

**Remorse**

* * *

Merag has never been a particularly _condescending_ individual.

No, long ago, in another life, she fought alongside her brother and her kingdom in order to protect the people she loved and the place she once called home. It saddened her to watch the enemy die around her, made her sick - hell, she had even thrown up more than once at the sight of bloodied clothing and scarlet stained grass and glazed over eyes that would never blink again. That was just who she was.

As a Barian after her second birth as a new being, Merag still refused to think of herself as evil. In that place, she didn't hurt her comrades and there was no opposing force to fight and destroy. She was happy, with Nasch at her side, with her old fellow soldiers and kinsmen and dear friend Durbe safe with her.

And then she became human once again, with false childhood memories, with memories erased from her mind altogether. Even then, she wasn't antagonistic, just a fourteen-year-old girl who had friends and a dear sibling and - dare she call _him_ a potential lover? In any case, she had a life in Heartland City, was a teenager who hadn't lived the most normal of lives, but nonetheless had experienced the Earth version of growing up.

No, Merag wasn't a villain.

Never was, never will be.

But that is what everyone calls her as she steals their lives and plagues their _Sekkai _with an intimidating red light as two worlds collide and bruise each other mercilessly. She watches Tetsuo's form disappear and Kotori's eyes water and Yuuma's heart shatter and Kaito's body give out and Nasch's eyes harden painfully.

She doesn't have the 'privilege' of watching _him_ die.

But the nausea still overcomes her alien body - a feeling she shouldn't be having. Barians have no mouths; it's a way of concealing their emotions further, a way of looking stronger, and way of..._hiding_. Merag can feel his soul descend into the depths of - no, not Hell, not the place he's condemned himself to - God only knows where.

As she glares up at this forsaken, suffering sky with eyes gradually filling with extraterrestrial tears, she swallows back a harsh sob as her Barian form fades for a moment. She collapses to her knees and the reality of all that has happened comes crashing down on her, knocking away her breath. Remorse threatens to overcome her as she cries out to this dying planet.

Right now, she is just Rio.

Right now, she is that little girl who is trapped in a fire again - one she cannot extinguish, no matter how desperately she tries.

And for a second, it feels like there are lips pressing softly against her salty cheek, the rough feeling of a scar brushing past her ear, like he came to say goodbye, and the Gates of Hell open and-

He's gone.

* * *

_~Finish~_


	10. Snow

_A/N: Prompt given by_ Droite_. Thank you:)_

_I'll have a "rabbits" chapter soon, I'm trying to be creative again._

* * *

**10**

**Snow**

* * *

It's the first snowfall of the year and the city looks absolutely beautiful.

It is the kind of day where the white blanketing the landscape is fresh, untouched, somehow remaining clean and puffy. Flakes still lazily drift down from light gray clouds that float overhead. People are waking up, readying themselves to enjoy their Saturday time off and just have fun outside in the winter air. The atmosphere is so carefree and happy - and Rio is loving every second of it.

Yuuma dragged Ryouga away early in the morning, claiming the three of them (poor Kaito must have been involved against his will again) were going to have an awesome day full of joy and _kattobingu_. So Rio was on her own until Kotori could join her in the afternoon.

She pulls on a pair of white boots that meet dark, cotton leggings. Her blue sweater is long, reaching below her hips, with a belt clamping around her waist and a wide turtle neck resting on her shoulders. The girl swings a small purse over her arm and slips her hands into a pair of bleached gloves before shutting and locking the door to her home and rushing out to the streets.

The first part of her weekend consists of beaming through shop windows and kicking snow up onto her clothed toes and shaking it back off absentmindedly. It's peaceful and kind of nice.

But it doesn't last too long because when Rio reaches the Heartland Public Park, she recognizes someone.

His back is turned to her, leather jacket slightly dusted with melting specks of frozen precipitation. He has on jeans and leather shoes and a scarf wrapped above his collar bone.

Grinning, she ducks before he can spin and catch sight of her. Crouching to the floor behind the large trunk of a tree, Rio reaches toward the ground, shoveling together a bunch of snow. She can already feel the chill nipping through the fabric on her fingers, but she almost welcomes it. Summer had been extremely hot this year after all.

Stepping out from her hiding place, Rio, in one of her kindest tones, calls out, "Oi, IV!"

As soon as he moves to look at her, the snowball smacks square in the center of his face.

He immediately begins to loudly and ungracefully spit the stuff out of his mouth and wipe frantically at his now freezing skin to get it off. "What was that for?!" He's blinking rapidly at this blue-haired girl with wide, surprised eyes, scowl quirked downward as the white that stains his cheeks slips away.

Rio, on the other hand, is cracking up. Grasping her stomach to control her laughter, she points at him, trying to form words between gasps. "Your-...your face! I'm so sorry-...that was priceless-...though!"

IV grimaces back at her, absolutely zero amusement evident in his features. Not that his friend really cares, she's still giggling with a sheepish simper plastered on her face. Her eyes shut tightly as she tries desperately to compose herself. The guy hasn't said anything, and that only makes things funnier. Instant replay zips through her mind and the shocked expression on IV's features triggers her _again_. Rio attempts to force out a _sorry_ from her throat, but it doesn't exactly work.

After a long while of this, she finally gets a hold of herself, straightening her spine and opening her eyes to apologize-

IV swings his arm and the snowball smacks square in the center of _her_ face.

Rio doesn't even bother removing the cold substance; just purses her lips and glares up at him with an irked, furrowed brow.

IV smirks real wide. "Now _that_ was priceless."

* * *

_~Finish~_


	11. Rabbits

_A/N: Prompt from_ Maki_ and seconded by_ XxStarryHeavenxX._ Thanks gaiz~_

_Aha XD This is totally **not** what you people had in mind I'm sorry kinda sorta. Maybe I'll use the prompt again or something similar in the future because I totally used a huge loophole..._

* * *

**11**

**Rabbits**

* * *

It's been four hours.

Four. Hours. And _still_ ongoing.

It's been four, long hours of tossing and turning in sheets that just don't feel right against tender skin, with the fan somehow being flicked on and off by a quiet hand reaching above a restless body. Half a night of exasperated sighs that are silent as not to awaken the man passed out beside her. Endless minutes of heat flashes followed by cold spells and a continuing cycle of thermal temperatures rising and falling in a way that only insomnia can do to a person. Ticking seconds by the clock on the wall of staring blankly up at the ceiling, mapping out pictures in the swirls in the paint.

She has tried, she really has.

She's listened and listed every time Thomas inhales and exhales, memorizing the pattern of his slumbering breathing. And that seemed to lull her slightly - until he snored softly and shifted in their bed. It wouldn't have fazed her normally, but after so long of consciousness, it just pissed her off.

It wasn't just that - the young woman has steadied her own breathing and mentally repeated _'in...out...in...out...'_. She has tried to go into her own little world and make up a story in her head that would distract and perhaps plunge her into sleep when she least expected it. She's listened to some music on her device and earphones.

So here she is, the back of her neck sweating while her feet are cold, glowering as the lyrics of a song stuck in her head replay over and over, being completely jealous of Thomas, who merely continues to murmur parts of his incoherent dreams to her right.

Finally, she gives up, shuffling to her feet quietly to go watch some TV or something.

Though not quiet enough, apparently, because she feels someone limply grasp hold of her wrist.

"Sorry," she whispers. "Did I wake you?"

Thomas yawns and his eyes water a bit. He's still sprawled flat out on the mattress, trying to blink away the tiredness in his vision. The sheets fall from his bare chest down to his boxers as he moves to try sitting up. "Yeah. Where're you going?"

Rio clenches her fingers in the fabric of her periwinkle nightgown, feeling guilty for disturbing him. "Watch a movie or something. I can't sleep."

He hunches over, masculine form appearing heavy as he looks over at her skeptically. "You're gonna die tomorrow."

"I know that!" she snaps. "I can't help it though!"

Thomas huffs indignantly before reaching out, gripping her shoulders, and pulling her down with him as he lays on his pillow. Rio lets out a soft _oof!_ and pouts as her head nestles in the crook of his neck against her will.

He pokes her cheek gently, movements still slow. "I have an idea."

"Probably won't work-"

"It's something my older brother would do to help me fall asleep when I was really young," Thomas explains softly. "And when...well, he left...I'd do the same for Michael. It's like a family tradition, because I'm pretty sure Chris got it from Tron."

Hearing him talk like that makes Rio shut her mouth. Her lids lower halfway, eyebrows knitting in...even _she_ is not entirely sure. Concern? Pity? Adorableness? Admiration?

"Count rabbits."

And then the moment is gone. "...What?"

He laughs. "I'm serious." He lifts up his hand for both of them to see. "Imagine a whole bunch of rabbits are running around and you have to count all of them. They're cuter than sheep, after all."

Rio rolls her pink eyes, not impressed but amused nonetheless. "I'm not buying it."

He cranes his neck so he can kiss her cheek affectionately, then gets as comfortable as he pleases and holds her closer with one arm. He clenches his hand into a fist. "Zero rabbits." He can hear her snickering reluctantly, so he proceeds to extend his index finger. "One rabbit." Then his middle finger. "Two rabbits." And his ring finger-

"Three rabbits," Rio giggles faintly.

The whole house is so silent, so serene, and the only sounds are her and Thomas as they count rabbits while the moon perches high up in the night sky outside. She isn't quite sure what eventually causes her to slip into unconsciousness - it could have been the counting part, though she highly doubts it. But before falling asleep, she hears Thomas mumble, "Fifty-six rabbits..." His embrace is warm and his voice is anesthetic when he uses it like that. And very soon, he's holding a dead weight who breathes peacefully and mutters something about bunnies against his skin.

Thomas smiles, then frowns.

He's still awake.

* * *

_~Finish~_


	12. Remember

_A/N: Prompt given by_ Yes_. Thank you:)_

_Happy Father's Day everyone^_^_

* * *

**12**

**Remember**

* * *

It's about nine o'clock at night when they decide to go to bed.

Thomas sets away his book and shifts in his chair loudly, stretching stiff limbs. Rio shushes him, but is grinning as she does so. His wife stands and is about to click off the lamp so they can leave to their room when-

"Mama, Papa...I can't sleep..."

Thomas's back is turned to the little girl, so he doesn't bother to hide the extremely sour facial expression and Rio tries her hardest not to laugh. Instead, the mother strolls past her husband and smacks him lightly on the shoulder before kneeling down in front of her daughter.

"What's wrong, Aimi-chan?" she asks softly, patting the child's dark hair.

With a wide, maroon gaze, their kid looks up guiltily with a tiny smile. "Nothing... I just can't sleep right."

Rio is about to speak when she hears the man standing, making his way over to his two favorite women. Thomas rests his hands on his hips and beams down at them. "We can fix that."

Aimi closes her eyes and seems to glow as she thanks them. Her father reaches down and picks her up with ease. She's so small, just four years old, and he only uses one arm, the other outstretched to pull Rio to her feet. He leans forward and whispers in the fellow adult's ear, "You go get ready, I'll handle this."

She nods gratefully and kisses him on the lips, then Aimi on her cute forehead. Rio bids her goodnight and leaves down the hall towards the master bedroom. Thomas is left alone with his baby girl in the living room. He beams over at her, mouth curled upward happily. "Let's go!"

"Yeah!" Aimi agrees enthusiastically.

He can hear the soft undertone in her tiny voice, though - she's tired, that's obvious - and it's his job to assist her in drifting off into unconsciousness. He's done it before; usually sitting by her and stroking her hair is enough. Sometimes he brings her milk, sometimes Rio has to take over because he has no idea what he's trying to do. But tonight, he has a new idea.

So Thomas brings his 'baby' to her quarters and places her on her mattress and wraps her up comfortably in soft, clean sheets and blankets. He grabs her favorite stuffed animal toy from off the floor (must have dropped it coming for her mom and dad) and gives it to her to hug. She lays down and blinks up expectantly - (his heart melts when she does that).

"_Yosh_, Aimi-chan," he breathes loudly, sitting on the edge of the pillow-top. He fingers the fabric of his tan pants as not to lose his train of thought (he's tired, too). "I have a plan!"

She giggles, high-pitched and adorable-like, and squeaks, "Really, Papa?"

"Yes," Thomas laughs, poking the tip of her nose. "Wanna hear it?"

Aimi nods, excited. "Uh-huh!"

He lets his weight fall downward, touches his forehead to hers, and whispers, "We're going to count rabbits."

His daughter giggles.

"You can count, neh?" Thomas chuckles, pressing his lips in between her eyes and sitting up straight once more. "You're a big girl!"

Aimi exclaims that she is, that she's one of the grownup kids at her school and he tells her that he is so proud. Then he continues on with his declaration.

"Ready?" He holds out his left fist, right hand busy petting her thick, soft hair in what he hopes is a soothing fashion. In a quiet tone, he murmurs, "Zero rabbits..." And he extends his index finger. "One rabbit." Aimi snuggles into the cushion deeper as he adds his middle finger. "Two rabbits." His ring finger. "Three rabbits." His pinkie-

"Four rabbits," Aimi yawns, barely audible.

His thumb. "...Five rabbits..." He simpers gently. "...Six rabbits..." He slowly gets to his feet. "...Seven rabbits..." He's at the door now. "...Eight rabbits..." He closes it, and for good measure, adds in a silent sigh, "...Nine rabbits..."

"Ten rabbits," someone hums past his ear, and Thomas spins on his heel to snake his arms around his spouse's waist. Rio mumbles, "You still remember that, huh...?"

"I always will. The fact that _you_ remember it is the surprising part."

"Alright Mr. Cottontail, I'm sleepy," she drones, tugging him by his shirt collar. "You did good tonight."

Thomas smirks. "It's your turn next time."

Half an hour later, when Aimi comes into their room complaining about having woken up again, Rio slaps her 'soul mate's' arm and walks their child back to bed. Thomas pretends not to have roused from his slumber.

* * *

_~Finish~_


	13. Golden

_A/N: Prompt from _Maki_. Thank you!_

_OMG WTF is this crap I'm soooooo sorry._

* * *

**13**

**Golden**

* * *

It's probably strange of her to say - especially aloud - but one of her favorite physical qualities of Thomas is his hair.

Well, every part of him is gorgeous. His dark, maroon eye are easy to get lost in, they're intense, deep, and can be so, so soft. His height is nice as well; it's just to the point where she has to stand on her tiptoes to kiss him. His lips are warm and inviting against hers, taste good, are sweet and hesitant. The young man's smile is precious, adorable, sometimes cocky. His scar is rather attractive in it's own way; it seals their relationship, marks it right on his face just like the fading burn marks hidden beneath her clothing.

Rio loves everything about him, including every one of his imperfections - and that's what makes them so close. They can accept each other for who they are.

But if she had to _choose_, it'd only take a split moment for her to answer.

She absolutely adores his hair.

Thomas thinks that is weird.

"Look, I love your hair, too, it's fricken beautiful, but your obsession with mine is still bizarre," he'd often tell her.

It is a habit of hers to lean over the back of the couch and run her fingers through the thick strands on his head, feeling the smoothness and the equal wildness of them. She waits until he's sitting on the cushion reading or playing a game-boy or whatever it is he does when he's bored. That way he can't say he's busy and retort. It's genius.

"Okay, why...?" Thomas mutters more to himself when her hand ruffles his shock.

Rio cranes her neck to look at him, smiling from ear to ear with her eyes closed for extra emphasis. "Because your hair is so nice~"

"..._What_?" He can't exactly hide the amusement in his tone, and she's fairly positive she heard a small chuckle in there somewhere.

"It's so fluffy!" Rio declares, patting the top his skull affectionately. "Or at least, the blonde part is. Your red hair is more wiry. I suppose that's why it sticks out like that."

"Thanks," Thomas says flatly and extremely sarcastically, scowling.

Rio rolls her eyes and tugs a lock by his ear. "The blonde hair you have, though...it's so _silky_. I like the way it feels."

Her boyfriend laughs at loud, dipping his chin as his shoulders bounce. "That's my _fanservice,_ neh?" He is still smirking at his own joke after she pokes his cheek roughly at the crudeness of it. "I'm just joking! ...Sort of-"

There's a subtle _thump_ when Thomas's own book hits his upper arm, Rio holding it threateningly. "You're the complete opposite of modest, you know that, right?"

"It's a golden quality of mine."

"You mean like your hair?" the girl questions, unamused, bunching his long bangs into her fist gently. She doesn't mention it out loud, but she isn't trying to irritate him so much as she wants to touch the sleekness.

Thomas shrugs. "If that answer makes you satisfied, then sure."

Rio can see him smiling.

* * *

_~Finish~_


	14. Bittersweet

_A/N: Prompt from_ Droite._ Thanks^_^_

_Sorry this is a little late. I'm tired._

* * *

**14**

**Bittersweet**

* * *

IV stares at the variety of choices for a long time; longer than he cares to admit. The colors eventually begin to blur into a big, insignificant canvas that makes him dizzy and a little scared. Swallowing, he pays for a bouquet that he close-to-randomly selected in an attempt to get the hell out of there as fast as possible. When he is outside on the concrete sidewalk, cars driving past and people walking by swirling incoherently in his vision, he freezes.

For a moment, thoughts like _What am I even doing...?_ and _Can I really do this? _flood his mind in a forceful tide of anxiety and guilt. But he clears his head as best as he can, shaking it harshly and touching the bandages which cover half his skull to assist in healing the gash on his wounded eye. That does it. That frees him for a second.

And that brief time of freedom doesn't last too long, but it's enough to get himself to the Burn Unit at the hospital. It's enough for him to ask the room number and it is enough for him to lock his body in the elevator and press the button with a shaking, unoccupied hand.

It gets tricky, however, when the adrenaline of feeling the cloth against what will one day be a scar wears thin and the flowers nearly slip from his grasp.

IV stands there awkwardly when the door slides open, a gaping entryway into the hall that leads to the metal slab he needs to eventually step through. Taking measured, deep breaths, he picks his way around the corner and he thinks he is doing fairy well until the chiseled **205 **comes into view and he can't move again.

He feels like he's a child once more, clutching III's hand as bravely as he can and watching V stalk down the street into the night air, abandoning them. Like the tiny boy whose father manipulated him into hurting this girl who did nothing wrong. Like the helpless kid who has lost his best friend at the same time the fire ignited, the one who can only see out of one eye temporarily and who bought these crappy plants as an apology that will only be discarded along with a slap to his face - -

He takes his own advice and slaps himself in the face to wake the hell up.

Then IV steadies the unhealthy rate of his pounding heart and inhales sharply, twisting the handle and going inside.

She's asleep, but that's alright. Her visitor notes the bandages (like his own) that crawl up her body and cringes slightly before creeping to the sink off the side, filling a plastic cup he finds in a cupboard. He sets it on her nightstand and places the flowers - blue and pink, he sees, he hadn't even bothered to look properly - in the water. IV then takes a stride backwards, ignoring the bitter taste in his mouth as he nods once and leaves the facility.

.

.

"_Ouch_," he hisses, flinching away from her outstretched hands. "The heck, are you trying to kill me?"

That stings more than she allows her face to express as she replaces the gauze wrapped around his abdomen and arms. Instead of apologizing for the thousandth time, she merely tells him, "Please stop squirming."

And that's when Thomas obviously realizes that something is wrong - be it the tone of her voice or the fact that she said the _please word_ so timidly - and he frowns deeply at her. "Rio...?"

She ducks her head, gaze downcast with her blue bangs falling in front of her pink eyes.

They are sitting in a doctor's office, there for what will be one of the weekly checkups Thomas will require for the next twenty-one days. Rio figured she owed him a few drop-by's at the paramedics' but now she is not so sure she wants to be here. The stark white walls seem to be closing in, suffocating her while the young man appears to be fine. So she bites her tongue and continues to cover his skin with the pale dressing, directing her line of sight away from the bruises and cuts.

Thomas's Duel with Ryouga - _Nasch_ at the time - had left him beaten. His heavy clothing hid the damage astoundingly well and only now did the severity of the aftereffects really sink in.

Rio sinks back into her seat once she is done and watches blankly as her (can she call him a _comrade_ now? is it _right_?) shoulders back on the layered jackets that complete his cream and golden attire. He blinks up at her when he catches her looking and grins sheepishly, then knits his eyebrows, concerned when she doesn't offer a reaction.

(There is a bitter taste rising up her throat.)

"_Che_," Thomas sighs, smirking to himself absentmindedly. He recalls fighting what he named 'the only one he calls a friend' and slamming against the tar and dipping into a comfortable darkness and never waking up and then _waking up_ and his brothers taking him home and watching as the Kamishiro's are revived and smiling at Ryouga and smiling again at Rio who grimaces back with tears clinging to her lashes. He laughs mentally, a terrible sentence passing through his mind /_I guess we're even now, neh?_/ and he wants to hit his own wounds as self punishment for that sour idea.

Rio raises her gaze at that noise and waits patiently, shivering a bit.

He shuts his eyes and tilts his head, reaching up to touch his scar with his index and middle finger. She gasps silently, clenching her jaw, and he smiles real wide at her, exactly like the first time they had met after the war ended. "It hurts, huh? Seeing someone you care for in a place like this...? But Rio...none of what happened is in any way your fault. You did nothing bad. We'll get through this, just like last time" _in the fire_ dies on his lips "and we'll _heal_."

(That bitter taste seems to fade, and all she can think is how sweet he is.)

* * *

_~Finish~_


	15. Chocolate

_A/N: I'm on vacation and writing anything on this dumb tablet is a bitch, so have a short chap:)_

_Prompt from _Maki_. Thanks, keep dropping those prompts gaiz, your support means a lot, and I appreciate reviews if you're kind enough!_

* * *

**15**

**Chocolate**

* * *

She wrinkles her nose and huffs in a low tone, "Aw."

"What is it?" Thomas asks, joining her on the patio.

"I'm an idiot, that's what," Rio growls, irked at her own stupidity. It's not a _terrible_ loss, she can always buy more from the little parlor down the street that she and Ryouga frequent, it's pretty cheap for how good the pastries are. But it's still irritating, mostly because it's _her_ fault.

She can hear Thomas stifling a laugh, and when she asks why, he sheepishly chokes out, "You're so dumb."

Rio hits his arm fairly hard and he giggles like a little girl, hunching his shouders to shy away from her swinging hand. She purses her lips and scrunches up her face indignantly at him before sighing wistfully at her accident. "What a waste."

"Michael used to constantly tell me that if ya made a mistake, you could always substitute it or doctor it up to make it not-a-mistake." She frowns and he shrugs. "He's the optimistic brother."

The young woman leans her weight to one hip, thinking. The chocolate she had left in a bowl on the table had melted in the sun. Now it is a puddle of dark, sugary pudding, untouched and just _sitting there _with _zero_ purpose. It's really quite depressing.

Rio pulls out a chair, cursing herself for forgetting about the candy, and plops down at said table. Thomas attempts to think up something to say (he just figures it's pointless to piss and moan about stuff like this, though if he said so aloud, he'd probably be shot by his own girlfriend) but eventually settles for seating himself next to her and mimicking the sounds she makes. It's not comforting, but it's ridiculously amusing.

She groans, he groans. She makes a _hmph_ noise, he makes a _hmph_ noise. She glares at him, he stares back. She blows a raspberry, he blows a raspberry. She tells him to quit it, he tells her, "Quit what?"

"You're unbelievably immature."

"I know right?"

She narrows her eyes and he watches while taking a sip of his drink as she grabs the cup of melted chocolate, placing it in front of her. What confuses Thomas is when she dips her fingers into the sticky substance. She states real calmly, "You...are..._annoying_."

Then she uses the chocolate to draw a big mustache on his upper lip.

At first he just looks at her with an expression that clearly portrays _Are you serious? _Then he shrugs for a second time and slaps his whole hand in the chocolate and wipes it across her entire face. Rio gawks at him, jaw unhinged and eyes extremely wide as the sweet treat drips down her cheeks and chin.

Thomas smirks, the French 'facial hair' making him look like dufus. "Now, what was that you were saying?"

Rio sticks out her tongue and - despite her mental laughter - mutters, "Jerk."

* * *

_~Finish~  
_


	16. Family

_A/N: Prompt given by_ XxStarryHeavenxX. _Next up is "fireworks", then a shot that I really want to write_ now_, but I'm not gonna let down reviewers, cuz it's thanks to you guys that I keep writing:)_

_4-sentence glimpses into everyone's relationships - who are involved with _this_ relationship. ...You'll see._

_I should be doing homework lol._

* * *

**16**

**Family**

* * *

**F - - frustrating**

.

"Why can't you just accept this?!"

It's driving her insane because it's true; her brother just cannot - _will not _\- get over the fact that she is a young adult and has a free will...meaning she is allowed to date Thomas if she wants to. But apparently the past is spiking up in his memory, or maybe something else, Rio doesn't know, because Ryouga clenches his fists and shouts real roughly at her, and she's a little surprised at first when he does (he's just so _frustrating_ sometimes but now it all makes sense).

"Because you're my sister and it _sucks_ to let you go!"

* * *

**A - - adamant**

.

Maybe it's due to their history, the events that messed up their childhood, but Thomas is pretty damn sure that brothers aren't supposed to do this.

Seriously, where is his personal space lately? Jesus, you tell one of them that you're courting a beautiful girl and soon the other one knows as well and they're both pounding for details in an _adamant_ fashion (_have you guys 'done it' yet? how does she put up with you?_) without minding your fricken zone, your bubble, your comfortable distance from other individuals.

Eventually, he tells Michael and Chris to leave him alone - especially when he finds them hiding behind a bush the next day when he is with Rio.

* * *

**M - - melodramatic**

.

When Thomas isn't with her and she is alone in his home with his two siblings, things tend to get a little awkward.

And really, it's because they try so hard; offer her a beverage, a snack, a better place to sit, to take her coat, and they mind their manners to the point that it is hilarious. Rio just smiles, pretends like that isn't weird because she has known these guys for a long time and they only started acting like this when Thomas brought her home hand-in-hand.

When her boyfriend returns to rescue her, he whispers in her ear as they leave, "Don't worry about them; they're a bit..._melodramatic_ about things."

* * *

**I - - intimidating**

.

Ryouga has never really fazed him before, which is why it's such a different feeling to be fidgeting and sweating in his presence. And the Kamishiro man isn't making things much easier because his glare is soulless and piercing and Thomas feels like his body might ignite into black flames of the Devil and explode.

Ryouga, King of the Barians, keeper of this apartment, and protector of his twin, blinks slowly and it's real _intimidating_ and he scrambles to find his voice (when he finally does, it's kinda raspy, forced, with a nervous laugh evident).

"So uh...I _can_ propose to your sister...right?"

* * *

**L - - loving**

.

Thomas presses the palm of his hand, fingers extended, gently on her swollen stomach and he grins like an idiot (he doesn't allow her to see his fear, his distrust in himself, his utter worry about this whole situation). Rio simpers sincerely and pecks him on the cheek that bears his old scar.

"Don't worry; you'll be a wonderful, amazing, _loving_ father."

And for some reason - maybe it's that voice of hers, it's like a drug - he believes her.

* * *

**Y - - yours (for the moment)**

.

Their daughter is practically a celebrity within their own family, with her dark hair and bright eyes and tiny body that walks unsteadily on carpeted ground littered with stuff given to her by spoiled uncles.

Chris is the patient one, the one who holds Aimi-chan's hand so she can wander around the room; Michael is more like a cousin or such, he plays with her and brings her some of his pretty artifacts to keep; Ryouga is a little obsessive, melts at the sight of her, wants to be there for her first birthday and her first soda-pop and her first belly laugh.

It's when everyone gets together and Aimi-chan is being doted on that these said uncles turn to ask the parents a question only to find them curled up on the couch completely asleep on each others' shoulders, as if they're saying _She's yours for the moment...at least while we take a breather_.

* * *

_~Finish~_


	17. Fireworks

_A/N: Prompt from _Guest_.  
_

* * *

**17**

**Fireworks**

* * *

If IV wanted to be poetic, he would say that she is like fireworks.

Her eyes sparkle like them, light up the sky and brighten his day and ignite when full of rage. They shoot upwards when someone says something dumb and they sizzle when she receives an uncomfortably nice compliment.

Her hair is vibrant like them, a collection of dark and shimmering hues of blue and violet and turquoise. Strands cascade toward the ground but never touch, never meet, raining like silent waterfalls of color.

Her voice is loud like them, ringing after the impact. Yells like a sonic boom, laughs like a series of pops and trills, whispers like a fading explosion, cries like ragged puffs - like smoke is caught in her throat.

She is like fireworks, beautiful like them, unique like them, brash and graceful and vivacious like them.

He tells her this once and she snorts, not seeing the connection, but Rio smiles anyway and punches his arm affectionately.

.

.

She was like fireworks.

But her sparks went out and her eyes lost their shine and her hair lost its length and her voice lost its purpose when the fire brewed at the tip of his fingers, burned away her majesty as flames clawed their way up to her glimmering display and tugged her downward in a spiral.

He shot her down.

* * *

_~Finish~_


	18. Thorns

_A/N: Prompt from _K.I.T.T. RIDER_, who once told me these words of wisdom: "Screw Attack on Titan, I want more AccidentShipping!" So yeah, here ya go:)  
_

* * *

**18**

**Thorns**

* * *

IV has always seemed untouchable.

He has never been within range, never allowed himself to be reeled in, just inches away. He is a tangible being, a peculiar one. He preaches of _fanservice_, holds himself on a higher anarchy, yet in reality, he finds his own existence revolting.

His heart is wrapped in thorns.

His skin is thick and prickly and no one is allowed to drag their finger along it, no one is allowed to feel what is actually delicate and broken. His words are sharp and they scratch, leave scars, even on his own body. His blood-caked nails are spurs that harm and make white, faded marks. His hair is spiked and his facial cut is spiny and his eyes are like darts that hide the barbed-wire fence that protects his humanity. His deck is the quills on his back and his disk is the thistles down his spine and his past is the arrow that pierced his chest and murdered the person he once was.

IV is an anatomy made of invisible biers and prongs and snags, and that is what makes him so very untouchable.

And it may be out of her league to say, narcissistic even, conceited to desire this, but Rio wants to be his rose.

She wants to be the blossom that blooms above his dangerous stems and rigged leaves and bring out his color, his goodness, the part of him that was destroyed oh so long ago. She wants to be his flower, his petals, his bud that opens and reveals the _real IV_. So she tries, she reaches out, attempts to place her hand on his shoulder, her palm on his abdomen, her cheek against his neck. She dodges his needles and maneuvers through his twisted, intertwined, knitted vines.

His defenses go up, they bristle, the guilt that pricked his soul and nicked his instincts flaring.

But Rio simply plucks his thorns, one by one, and hopes it's enough to someday be that rose.

* * *

_~Finish~_


	19. Rain

_A/N: Prompt from _Droite_.  
_

_If this seems OOC to you, then please remember that these two went through some terrible stuff in life and that's bound to leave an emotional impression. I always saw Rio as the type of person who acts strong to hide the scared little girl she is deep down. As for IV...he's just had it hard from the beginning and acts like a sass master for similar reasons._

_Please drop more prompts guys, I need them~_

* * *

**19**

**Rain**

* * *

"I want to one day," she insists softly, "so we can bury the past."

What she wants is fair, so he only asks for one condition.

.

.

"Are you ready, IV?" she calls, Duel Disk activating along her extended arm.

He frowns, inhaling deeply, and for the first time in a long time, realizes just how insecure of a human being he truly is. His body feels hot and shaky and his fingertips and toes are freezing and numb. He can feel the muscles in his face having gone slack and the knitted feeling of his brow and how his eyes are empty with suppressed fear. The fabric of his cream and gold attire sticks to his invisibly shivering frame and for a minute, he is so small, so vulnerable, so _exposed_. He drawls in a long breath again and steadies his heartbeat.

IV gives her a curt nod and Rio smiles nervously, drawing her first card. After setting two in her Spell and Trap Zone and a monster in face-down defense position, she motions for him to take his turn.

He gazes down at the heavy metal resting on his own arm, clamped from his elbow to his wrist and palm. Water drips down into his lids and off glistening lashes and he blinks it away, thankful he isn't crying, and adds a new addition to his Hand.

They Duel for hours, the game being dragged out. Sometimes they pause and ask each other if they are alright, if they should persist, _endure_. Rio's knees are quivering and a bead of sweat is trickling down her temple. IV is still breathing raggedly and his scar is inexplicably stinging and he wants to just collapse and die right there.

But they press on, facing old, painful memories and their clothes become more and more soaked. Her hair presses against her shoulders and back, her neck and forehead with the extra weight of liquid. Tears are eventually escaping from her, cascading off her nose and chin, but she smirks through them and attacks with spot-on accuracy.

IV fights back, as he was told to do, ignores the burning in his lungs and the hallucinations of flames licking up her legs and a blaze engulfing him and coals littering the tarred floor and sparks spraying into his vision.

_It can't get us here_, he repeats calmly in his mind, over and over and over.

His condition was to Duel to face their traumas while rain poured from thundering skies and grey clouds.

Fire can't ignite if the world is wet and cold.

And so they keep going, defending, assaulting, summoning, activating, Rio weeping and grinning, Thomas quaking and swallowing the knot in his throat. They shove through their history and block the scary illusions of ashes and falling debris and smoke. Disturbances shrivel and skitter in their very cores; he swears he can smell fumes of melting iron and singed skin. And at last, bit by bit, they learn to accept what happened and they move on.

Before the precipitation lets up and vanishes and the sunlight filters through the dark horizon, both IV and Rio are laughing shamelessly and awkwardly, full of relief and grief and peacefulness, and they lower their Disks as drops continue to slide down their faces.

Their anxiety washes away with the rain.

* * *

_~Finish~_


	20. Zombie

_A/N: Prompt from _K.I.T.T. RIDER_. __And I'm going to butcher this prompt omg._

_"No emotions or rational thought for anything anymore due to trauma of some sort."_

_I'm sorry I haven't updated in a while, school and summer have been hell and I've been so busy, so once again, I apologize. Also, I'm pretty sure I got this whole sequence wrong, but whatever, yolo. This is so off from the prompt oh my GOD._

* * *

**20**

**Zombie**

* * *

"I have to admit, the first time was a surprise, ma'am," he tells her lazily, leaning his weight back on his hands while his legs dangle off the side of the tall structure. "But a second visit? Kinda leaves me speechless, y'know?"

The Priestess of her brother's kingdom scowls at this man, not amused, and wordlessly moves to sit a few feet away from him, toes hanging high above her land. A soft breeze picks up and works her hood off her head slowly. She accepts this and gazes at the dark horizon and the ocean view, tasting the salt in the air and savoring a moment of freedom.

"So - not to be disrespectful - but what's a noble like you doing?"

Merag glances over at the servant boy, blinking once, then twice. "What do you mean?"

Number 4 - the name he was given as a child when he was orphaned and sent to work as a laborer in order to _survive _(she knows because she once inquired Nash about this particular one after their first accidental meeting at this very spot, and he had had an answer) - shrugs and smirks to himself importantly, even if he knows he hasn't even a splash of a right to act cocky. "I'm someone who does everything you ask me to, works for this country and will probably die a slave. You are the sister of the Monarch. So why even bother talking to me?"

"Well," she begins smoothly, "you _are_ in the place where I often times come to clear my head. And quite obviously, I don't think it my ability to banish you simply because I want to sit here."

Of course she has the ability, but Merag has always been a kind woman of power, even kinder than that of Nasch, and he was the one who ordered that all victims of hard struggle and bounds to a life of strenuous work would be paid. He is the only reason that Number 4 can afford food and a small home to sleep late at night.

"You're amazing," he breathes into the cold air, folding his arms across his chest and hunching his shoulders. "And here I've only known you for an evening and sixty or so heartbeats."

Merag rolls her bright eyes and reaches over to push him playfully. He flinches slightly before her hand even touches him and she wants to ask why, but decides against it and doesn't do so again. Instead, she ruffles his blonde-and-red hair like he's some sort of a kid. His face flushes and he doesn't speak.

"You know," she starts evenly, "I wonder what I should address you as?"

"Uh...," he mutters stupidly. "Number 4...? I mean, that's sorta my name."

"That's no name," Merag insists, disgusted at the current state of the United Lands of the Poseidon Ocean for the first time in a long time. There is still so much to fix in this society, and slavery is one of them - no matter how much Nasch eases the strain of it, it is still wrong in her heart. "Give me something else to call you."

His face scrunches up in confusion. "I guess just 4...? I dunno. Don't have anything else to offer you, ma'am."

She's staring at him and he's shifting his weight at the sudden attention, trying to smile that arrogant smile of his and ultimately failing. It astonishes her, really, that someone could be so indifferent to their own name. And she's about to comment when something catches the corner of her vision.

Merag slowly turns her head to face the horizon once more, and she feels her facial muscles go slack in a sudden dawn of reality. At one point, 4 is asking if she is alright, then his sentence hitches when he, too, takes notice.

The sky is becoming a dark maroon, dragging, squirming, inching across the vast stretch of black and painting the atmosphere an intense, bloody color, and it's so violent, so ominous, so _soundless_, that the entire universe seems to have settled into a hot silence.

4's lips are parted like he wants to say something, but can't exactly handle his voice. Yet eventually, once the sky has been completely choked in a heavy scarlet, he manages a strangled, "Ma'am...you should run..."

That is precisely what she is planning, but not for the reasons her friend is probably thinking of. No, Merag leaps to her feet clumsily and spins on her heel, nearly falling, and darts for the closest stairwell, skipping a few steps as she flees down them. She can hear ragged gasps behind her as 4 chases after her - she wants to shout at him, order him to escape whatever is coming, but her lungs burn so much that the command isn't even audible when her mouth opens. So she lets him follow, stumbles down the panicking streets of pedestrians pounding one way, soldiers maneuvering towards the beach, wildly scanning the crowds for her sibling.

Hell is unleashing and everything is blurring.

There is an ear-splitting _crack_ to their right and the ground shifts unnaturally. Merag desperately yearns to scream but once again, no noise comes from her dry throat.

Someone is grabbing her arm roughly and pulling her down.

She hits the concrete.

Someone is on top of her.

There is another cracking and the air is suddenly _very warm_, and 4 lifts her up with ease, steadying her, clasping his hands on her shoulders and shrieking over the roar of the wind that isn't so soft anymore, "_We have to move! I realize that we don't _know_ each other and I cannot be trusted, but let me help you _live_._"

The Priestess, the royal, the small girl trapped in a chaotic world of shrill squeals and sobs and snarling, nods once and takes his fingers in hers, watching hopelessly at the giant flames crawling toward the red, red, _red_ sky. Grey smoke spirals in all directions, leaving stains on their clothes and in their bodies, they're coughing, searching for a way out. The fire grows larger, lustful, hungry, heating up everything, and her and 4 scramble to find a clear way out.

There is an opening, and it's tiny, but both see it at the same moment and race against the sundial to slip into safety.

But a nearby building is suffering under the fowl, feverish temperatures and downward it crumbles, debris raining down on the blaze's captives like its own ashes. Merag picks up speed, attempting to peer backwards to catch sight of him but can't, and when she faces in front of herself again, a beam of wood from the ceiling is collapsing, tumbling onto her.

It's only a second but it lasts for an eternity; a great thrust from behind sends her flying - hitting the floor painfully - wrist hurts - somehow her hood stayed on her, her attire is still white, and it's remarkable - pushes herself upward - eyes are stinging - the fire is gone on one side, she's fine if she leaves now - but - he's not...

Merag raises her chin, dreading, and discovers only the hand that had pushed her out of the way, poking out from beneath the singed roof of the house.

.

.

She cries, wails, and screeches up at the dyed sky.

She cannot move anymore, is a _zombie_ from horror tales, she can't think straight anymore - Number 4 is dead and she is alive and that feels _so wrong, so wrong, so wrong - -_

Rationality sweeps away for a long while, and she remains there, the sputters of the inferno drowned out by humans howling every which way.

And then...she isn't weeping anymore.

The tears won't come and she feels so numb and empty and her limbs won't obey her. She forgets where she is in a pool of guilt that also abandons her, leaving her shaking and stiff.

.

.

(Shock begins to fade and Merag dazedly stands, blankly watches the hand for any sort of movement, and walks; the fire obscures and she can hear Vector and Nasch.)

.

.

(She dies along with him only hours later.)

.

.

.

.

"What the hell are you doing?"

Rio's wrist snaps and she recoils, pursing her lips sourly at him. "Nothing."

What she doesn't tell IV is that she is simply happy to see the servant boy living - how relieved and glad and exhausted she is to have him beside her, glowering like a dork - how wonderful it is for him to have left _this_ fire with merely a scar. She doesn't tell him that she knew him in a past life - he'd probably get it somewhat, but he doesn't remember and should continue to live in that blissful ignorance of _the-war-never-happened-back-then_.

She wants to touch him, ruffle his hair, shove him playfully, place her nail against his wounded eye and apologize for betraying him as a Barian - but he is smirking at her and chuckling, "Too much _fanservice_ to comprehend? You just need to touch me to make sure this much awesomeness is actually a real person? I'm flattered."

Rio just ends up punching him.

.

.

* * *

~Finish~


	21. Gasp

_A/N: From_ Pink Heart Maiden _\- thank you for your review earlier, welcome to the team~ Here's one of your prompts and I will use more in the future!_

_It's been so long. I'm tired, overwhelmed, and just trying to pass my classes and keep up with band and read a goddamned book. Sorry._

_Post-series AU._

_Thanks for being patient everyone._

* * *

**21**

**Gasp**

* * *

"If this isn't illegal, I don't know what is."

He ignores her and instead rolls ungracefully off the sill onto the hard floor, groaning softly and sitting up to carefully close the window.

"Still think this is illegal."

Thomas stands up slowly, silhouetted by the glaring light of the waxing moon, and Rio can't shake the feeling that it's watching, ready to tell on them. For she's quickly distracted by her visitor brushing off his black pants and straitening his leather jacket in an attempt to regain some dignity.

"You just broke into my dorm room," Rio says plainly. "You're lucky my roommate is off sneaking with her boyfriend. Oh my God, this is illegal. You're older than me. You don't go to this school. You're breaking the law."

"I'm allowed to visit my own girlfriend," he retorts, shifting his weight more to one hip and running a hand through blonde and red hair. The same moonlight glints off his dark eyes, making him look rather ominous.

She raises her eyebrows at him. He's an idiot. "Not in the dead of night without permission. You look like a burglar. Or worse."

Thomas shrugs and struts over to the desk she has been _trying_ to write her essay at. It's the due the next day and worth a fourth of her grade in that class and this dork is making her future dwindle before her very eyes. He leans against the edge of it and blinks down at her papers spread out haphazardly. "You spelled 'inconsistency' wrong."

"Well _sor-ry_ it's eleven at night."

"Just saying."

"Whatever," Rio argues, scooting out her chair and moving to sit on the mattress of her bottom bunk. Using her toes to pull off her socks, she signs heavily and glares at Thomas again, hunching her shoulders and folding her hands in her lap in what she hopes appears disapproving.

Instead, he smiles wide and marches in front of her, stooping and placing the palms of his hands on the edge of her mattress, leaning into her and smirking. The whites of his teeth gleam slightly in a lopsided grin that is both amusing and rather attractive. He sets his forehead on hers and murmurs, "I missed you."

Rio feels her resolve weaken because really, she's missed him so much, too. She is stressed, anxious, tired, and sometimes lonely holed up in the dormitory with a roomie she hardly knows. Against her better judgement, she raises her fingers and tangles them behind his ear into his soft, soft hair. She mutters that he's a prat again before pressing her lips to his.

Slowly, he's pushing her onto the bed further, moving to trail open-mouthed kisses along her jaw. She wraps her arms around his neck and buries her nose in his shoulder, inhaling the smell of him and shifting to taste his tongue once more.

Then there are voices outside the locked door and Rio panics, _gasping _in quiet panic - Thomas kisses her harder to muffle the noise. He hurries to crawl off of her (how they were lying down was suddenly a mystery) as the knocking starts.

Rio buttons up the collar of her shirt (which was also mysteriously undone, but now was not the time to be scolding him) and practically runs the short distance to the window. Thankful she's on the first floor, she snatches Thomas's wrist and nearly lifts him out of it. He stumbles into the bushes that are up to his waist and moans when he bonks his head on the bar that holds the cheap curtains.

Rubbing the sore spot, he glares at Rio and says, "Nice seeing you, too, beautiful."

"Well, this is what you get for doing something illegal," Rio responds snarkily, shooing him. "You have to go! I love you, have a safe trip home."

"Yeah, yeah," he chuckles, planting an affectionate peck on her nose.

Then he has disappeared into the dark and Rio hastily leaves to let her bunk-buddy inside.

* * *

_~Finish~_


	22. Sleep

_A/N: Prompt from_ Droite._ Thank you~_

_So I'm going to have up that White Winter chapter sometime before Christmas lol (hopefully)._

_Thanks everyone!_

* * *

**22**

**Sleep**

* * *

It's amazing, because if he tries hard enough, the guy can fall asleep literally anywhere.

One time he passed out on a wooden bench at the theme park, one of Heartland City's many attractions. It was a rickety thing that creaked under his weight when he had sat down, with a hard piece of chewing gum stuck on of the metal legs. Rio had turned away to call out to Ryouga, who ignored her a little way down the path and she scoffed, moving back around only to fine IV lying down haphazardly, arms still cross and snoozing.

Ryouga had dumped some of his water from a bottle on his head when he joined them again.

IV can doze off during parties if he is bored, in the car if he is bored, when someone is speaking to him if he bored with this particular conversation, and anywhere really if he disinterested. At night he's like a log, not moving, snoring, and completely unaware of his surroundings. A train could chug straight through his room and IV would sleep on because he was stubborn enough to not wake up.

And Rio thinks this is really weird because even though he spends two-thirds of life - now that it has calmed down since the war - sleeping, he can stay awake for a unholy amount of hours if he feels the need. IV has no such thing as a sleep schedule, personally establishing when and where and if he will sleep.

Rio learned part of this through nightmares.

It's not often, but sometimes she'll jump awake, panting from a dream full of fire or the red sparks of her friends drifting up into the Barian portal.

IV stays with them a lot. He likes to keep an eye on them. The War was harsh and he has been worried. So Rio walks sluggishly into the kitchen for a glass of water and he's there on the couch, peeking over the top while yawning. "What are you doing up?"

Rio shrugs and fills her cup and takes a swig and prepares to go back to her room and he's still staring at her thoughtfully because obviously she had woken him up.

"...You're all right?"

"Yes."

IV hesitates, then nods, trusting her and lying back down beyond view.

The second time that week she wanders out to get a drink, IV doesn't sit up, and she's sweating and flushed from alarm so she's grateful. But as she's leaving, she hears him ask, "You're all right?"

"Yes," she says softly. "Go back to sleep."

When she sees him the next morning, he has small bags under his eyes, and she guiltily realizes he hadn't listened to her 'advice'. _But that's not my fault_, she tells her herself.

She doesn't have another nightmare until the next month and when she does, IV is staying with his brothers (he alters between houses, never comfortable being around the same people for too long). She's a little disappointed.

One night, when he's over at the Kamishiros', he greets them at breakfast looking exhausted. Rio is confused because she'd slept perfectly well and hadn't disturbed him. From the suspicious look on Ryouga's face, he's just as puzzled. IV just quirks a grin and grabs a poptart from the cupboards, promising to pay them back for it.

Rio doesn't figure it out until a school semester later. This time, she isn't awake because of a bad dream, but because she's stressed out for finals. She's living in the human world, and she's going to have a future in it, damn it. She's very quiet, tiptoeing into the kitchen to get some food or something. Then she notices the top of IV's spiky head and she frowns, waiting for him to say something. It's four AM. He hasn't acknowledged her yet.

Silently, she makes her way over to the couch, standing beside it. He's sitting with his hands in his lap, a blanket pooled around his knees. His eyes are gazing straight ahead, glazed over and very tired. He blinks slowly and says, "Hey."

"Hey," she says back.

He's a wreck, his hair tangled and pushed against his head on one side. He's sweating slightly, like she does when she jerks awake after reliving awful memories. Now that she takes a closer gander at him, her heart drops and she realizes that he must have had a nightmare.

And he'll get up a little bit before her and Ryouga and smile slightly and eat a small breakfast and carry on, then crash early and sleep nice and fit the next evening. But for now, he appears small and fragile, and she sits beside him and keeps him company until the sun rises, neither speaking.

Rio figures IV has nightmares that are a lot like hers. Filled with hungry flames and screams and bodies dispersing into the ashy sky. For Rio, she is the victim of the fire and the perpetrator of the ascending sparkles. For IV, it must be the opposite completely. She wonders if it's equally scary. Probably, she thinks, judging by how weary he is the next day.

And it sort of becomes a thing. When he's staying the night and she has an unnerving dream she comes to the living room where he'll wake up to the sound of her footsteps and they'll sit together until she falls asleep again.

Rio thinks it's really unfair because from her room, she can't ever tell if IV is out there, roused from a terror and alone on his couch. She only ever knows when they're up the following day and he's tripping over his own feet. She can't do much, but she stays with him until he drifts off at dusk and he always seems to rejuvenate after that. She likes it; she runs her fingers through his now combed hair until he's unconscious.

Rio used to think IV could fall asleep anywhere. He proved her wrong.

* * *

_~Finish~_


	23. Doll

_A/N: Prompt from_ K.I.T.T. RIDER_. Rated K+/T. Merry Christmas Eve:)_

* * *

**23**

**Doll**

* * *

Sometimes IV looks at Rio and feels a tiny ball of hysteria rise in his throat. It nestles somewhere around his Adam's Apple and slowly suffocates the rationality out of him. For a handful of seconds, he is so very terrified - and then it slowly resides down into his stomach to create a brief moment of nausea. It comes and goes fast, so fast he barely has a chance to register it ever happened. He does this every time and it's always just as unsettling.

It happens when his eyes meet hers accidentally, when they wander to catch a tentative glimpse of her, even when it's just a picture of her in another room.

And it's probably because IV has had the awful pleasure of breaking her perfect face into ashy, singed, and grey puzzle pieces that only by a miracle were able to be put back together with the glue of professional medical treatment and recuperation.

She is like a doll, IV thinks horribly. The thought often sickens him, nearly as much as the _amount_ of times he has thought such a thing.

Her skin is porcelain much like a doll. He has proof. Her skin is pale like porcelain, smooth like porcelain, flawless like porcelain (but he thinks she might be hiding burn scars beneath her clothes, because how could she not?), and oh so fragile like porcelain.

He has seen the light in her eyes die and go dull much like a doll. It's a memory he relives every morning when he wakes up before realizing that they're friends now and that it's all "okay" even though it's not.

In the hospital for all of those months, she had been still, motionless, laying and sitting there much like a doll. Barely breathing. _So very, very doll-like._

He watches as Rio throws shoes at Ryouga and Ryouga throws them back at Rio and IV feels himself invisibly panicking because _what if she cracks, what if it hurts her_ but it doesn't and she tears off her other shoe and pelts her brother with it since he's "an idiot".

She kicks footballs, trips like every other human on cracks in the ground, backhands Ryouga on the face when he takes his teasing too far, runs faster than anyone he knows, and Duels mercilessly, like a professional. He's very bad at not chewing the inside of his cheek in apprehension when Rio does any of this. He's worried she'll fall apart, even though he _knows_ she won't.

And he doesn't trust himself when she pushes him against the bed, whispering in his ear and kissing him. His breath rattles in his chest because _he wants to so terribly_ and he kisses her back and suddenly he's wondering if he's kissing her too hard - and oh _God_ if he is, her lips could split and she could fracture and he could wreck her and he couldn't live with himself if he did, he couldn't, he _couldn't_ -

"It's all right," Rio says quietly, burying her face against his neck, then trailing open-mouthed kisses along his jaw. "It's okay."

And IV debates; he's scared, she's far too much like a doll, she could shatter if he touches her.

But IV has never been a good person, that's a lie people have told him so many times, he's a sinner, and so he believes her and gives in and rolls so he's on top of her and smiles gently before pressing his mouth to hers once again.

In the end, Rio doesn't break, and IV is very relieved.

* * *

_~Finish~_


	24. White Winter

_A/N: From _XxStarryHeavenxX_._

_So I realize a few of my readers probably don't celebrate Christmas so I decided not to make a chapter about that. However, in the spirit of the holidays, have a short little winter-y, fluffy one(?). I hope Hanukkah was fantastic, Merry Christmas, and Happy Kwanzaa whenever that starts...and for anyone who doesn't celebrate anything, just have a wonderful day~! Also happy any-holidays-I-missed-accidentally... :)_

_Haha it doesn't snow where I live._

_I don't have much time to write right now so I hope this is enough lol._

* * *

**24**

**White Winter**

* * *

White winters are the best.

Winter means no school, no responsibilities. White means snow, lots and lots of snow. Put the two together and you get the holidays, pretty lights, romantic moods, gifts, booze, playful Duels on tabletops without any holograms to pass the time, and a ton of hot chocolate.

Winter means cute coats and woolly hats and ugly sweaters and earmuffs, boots, and mittens. White means snow, always snow, so much snow one could be buried in it, snow to toss at your enemies and friends alike.

Winter means the Arclight's visit Heartland. White means snow - Rio gets to fling snow at IV's face. That's her favorite part about this time of year, actually.

And of course, when IV trudges up to their door and knocks because he promised he would visit, Ryouga answers and invites him in and they all awkwardly greet each other because they're on fairly good terms now. They drink their hot chocolate since that's a very important part of winter, especially _white_ winters. They watch a movie and catch up on each others' lives and laugh and eat and go outside to watch the lights flicker on as the sun sets over a snowy, city horizon.

Rio bends down when IV and Ryouga aren't looking, quietly shoveling snow into her gloved hands. Quickly, she has made two snowballs, picking them up and taking a proper throwing stance.

"Oi~"

She yells it and when the boys turn around in confusion they are greeted with a fistful of snow each smacking into their faces, as was planned.

IV is surprised and Ryouga immediately reacts by ducking down to grab more of the frozen, cold substance, chucking what he can grab at his sister as she runs. Rio slips behind a tree and kneels to gather more snow as rapidly as possible.

Someone slams into the tree from the other side and snow on the branches above Rio shakes loose and rains down on her in clumps, nearly swallowing her, and when she tries to get up to escape, she's to covered in the stuff to move very far. IV grabs her arm as she falls and they both tumble into a drift, laughing some more.

Ryouga takes advantage by prancing over with an armful of more snow, always more snow, and dumping it all on top of their heads.

White winters are Rio's favorite.

They bring everyone together, she realizes as IV and Ryouga pelt each other with what are probably ice chunks now. They make people happy.

And then the moment is gone - more of that goddamned snow hits her between the eyes and goes up her nose and into her mouth and she spits it out violently and whips around to glare at whoever threw that.

IV and Ryouga are both glancing at each other in horror stupidly, and both instantly hide their hands behind their backs. There is a minute of silence.

Rio rolls her eyes and swoops down to get ammunition and the two idiots bolt and she chases them until the sky is too dark to see them. The three go inside and they thaw their numb fingers and toes and heat up the remaining chocolaty drink. They share a single couch and Rio wonders when they all got so close - they hadn't done this for so long, not since before the 'accident'.

Rio smiles and wraps her arms around her friend and her brother and they tense, then relax, and they're just three morons sitting there, shivering and giggling from tiredness and Rio doesn't think she's ever been happier.

* * *

_~Finish~_


	25. Veil

_A/N: Prompt from_ Doccy Larsson Seraphim_. Thank you! This is probably not what you were expecting whatsoever, I'm sorry bae._

_So here's a chapter! Also if anyone is interested, I have a Faithshipping collection started called _'Quintessential'_ if anyone's in the 5D's fandom and would like to read it._

_This is so short, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry I haven't updated in a year. I'm soooo sorryyyyyyy._

* * *

**25**

Veil

* * *

It's freezing cold and Rio is pissed.

The heater in her and Ryōga's home broke. It is winter. It is very cold right now and Rio is becoming rather cranky.

Ryōga and IV have been tinkering with the system for the past hour - she tried to help, but her brother does tend to get irritated easily, so she figured it was best to stay out of the way, especially when he was in the same room as IV Arclight, an old family "frenemy".

So Rio is currently curled up on their couch, wrapped so tightly in the biggest, fuzziest blanket she owns that she can feel the static in her hair increasing. Her head is even under the soft cloth, and seeing as how it's six at night, it is quite dark under there. It's nice.

Someone abruptly sits down beside her, sighing loudly, and she recognizes that tone of voice. IV must of gotten tired of Ryōga's shit.

"Any progress?" Rio asks, muffled by the nest she's made for herself.

"No," IV rasps, and he sounds exhausted and annoyed. "Your brother is a dick."

"I'm aware."

IV laughs shortly, and there's a rustling sound. Like he's rubbing his arms. "Man, it's cold. Like. It's not even funny how cold it is in here. I keep telling Ryōga to just call someone, but does he listen? No!"

Rio stifles a giggle. "He's stubborn. As soon as we start getting frostbite, I'll call someone myself."

"Good idea."

She smiles even though he can't see it. She hears him shift again, and a hand grabs a fist-full of her blanket. "Let me in there, okay? It looks warm."

Rio makes a noise of retort. "It won't be warm once you let all of the heat out! Get your own."

But IV doesn't give up that easily. "_Please? _Rio, I'm dying out here. I'm literally wearing a tank top. Share your haven." He gives the comforter a tug and Rio can't stop her laugh.

"Fine. But only because you're practically a human thermos."

She can legitimately _feel _IV's grin as he moves, searching for the ends of the blanket. He lifts it slowly, like a veil, and the light of the outside world is gross and blinding. She wrinkles her nose at him, and IV beams before snuggling himself up against her and in the quilt, pulling it over their heads again. She rolls her eyes and leans on his shoulder.

Ryōga feels very left out when he finds them and demands to be a part of the blanket party. He's shivering and they can't bring themselves to say no.

* * *

_~Finish~_


	26. Mirrors

_A/N: Prompt from magisterkekko__. Thank you~_

_There is swearing in this, and some somewhat darker themes? Also, it's been forever since I've updated, I apologize. Um. Happy 2016?_

* * *

**26**

Mirrors

* * *

IV has this reoccurring dream where he's surrounded by mirrors.

When it starts, all of the mirrors are blank - white - and when he goes to stand in front of one of them, he doesn't see his reflection. _Good_, IV thinks. _Good_. He doesn't want to see his face anyway. It's mangled with a scar now. It's _ugly_ now.

And for a long time, he wanders around a dark, never-ending room, filled with mirror after mirror after mirror. This is why, he figures, he will wake up with sore legs. Because he walks for the entire night, step after step after step, mile after mile after mile. It's a big room. Maybe it's not even a room.

IV stops in front of a particularly large mirror. It's as big as the wall in Ryouga's old kitchen in the mansion. He looks both ways, up and down what should be a hall, but it's too dark to say for sure. It's stark and empty.

IV closes his eyes for a moment. When he opens them, he knows that the mirror will transform.

And it does. He opens his eyes, slowly and in a way that is so dreamily detached that it may not have happened at all. He is looking at his reflection, finally, like every night. He watches himself contort and break and squirm, like contemporary dance, catch on fire, _scream_. And then the mirror shatters, and it's so loud that there is no noise when the rest of the mirrors in the dark, never-ending room splinter into millions of pieces in suit. The glass falls around him, and when he looks down, he can see her.

The shards arrange themselves crookedly and the reflection of a girl on fire stares up at him. She doesn't move as the flames lick all around her, touching her face, her eyes, and she doesn't say a thing to him when he slams his foot over her face to hide it. He can't look anymore. He can't. He twists his foot, the glass cuts it, there's blood on the glass as he keeps twisting because he wants it to_ go away go away go away-_

The entire room shatters this time - and he's falling, falling for what feels like _years_, gazing into the burning girl's eyes, each on separate fragments. She blinks, she's crying now, and he jerks awake, sweating and shaking and sighing because it's the middle of the night and he has things to do in the morning.

.

.

IV tells Rio about the dream when he's nineteen years old (almost twenty, he thinks with surprise). He has had that nightmare since the day he nearly killed her, and he has decided that she deserves to know.

Rio looks at him sadly. "That was so long ago. I've forgiven you."

He shrugs. "That isn't enough to stop them apparently."

She doesn't say anything for a while. She moves a little closer to touch her shoulder to his arm. He looks down and is struck by how much taller he is than her now. God, she is so small, so tiny, and it's so ironic because he knows that she could flip him onto the floor before he could blink. So much power contained in such a little body. It's one of the things he loves about her.

"You know that you can always call me, right?" she asks. "If it ever happens again."

"I know."

.

.

And it does. He's falling and flailing and flying. He hits his mattress and wakes up hyperventilating.

Some nights are worse than others. It's been so long that there are a few nights where he doesn't dream at all. There are nights where the dream is distant and fuzzy. There are nights where it feels _real_.

Tonight, he wakes up in a room that feels dark and unfamiliar, and he almost falls out of bed because the only thing he can think clearly at the moment is to _find the phone find the phone find the phone -_ **there**_ \- _and this time, he does slip off of the bed and onto the floor. He's clutching his phone, though, and that's what matters. He can't remember how to dial. Where are his contacts? Where?

It takes a few minutes, but eventually, there's a ringing in his ear and he is sitting against the bed and nightstand, pressed in the corner that they make. He's slowly starting to get his bearings, but that doesn't stop the shaking. His trembling fingers nearly drop the phone a couple of times. God, if he drops it, he may scream.

She doesn't answer. He's shaking all over again.

It is two in the fucking morning, of course she isn't answering. But he still feels betrayed and scared because he can still see her body shattered in the air, misshapen and scattered. He can still see her crying eyes and the two halves of her mouth pried open in a wordless shout. He can feel where the glass dug into his foot. It stings. It burns. She's burning. He's going to throw up.

The sound of his phone ringing makes him jump and it takes a few tries to answer it because his vision is fuzzy. Whether he is crying or going blind or insane, he doesn't know. All he knows is that Rio is talking to him on the other line.

"Hey, I'm sorry, I couldn't get to my phone in time. Are you okay?"

The question is so ridiculously simple that IV finds himself _laughing_. It's a breathless, desperate sort of laugh that he hasn't heard come from his own lungs since he was seventeen. It terrifies him and he can't _stop_.

"IV," Rio says calmly, sternly. "Breathe. Breathe with me, okay? Here. In...out...in...out..."

It takes a while, but his laughter becomes gasping, and his gasping becomes shallow gulps, and that becomes quick but controlled breaths of sweet, sweet air. "_In...out..._" His lightheaded-ness fades and the aching in his chest lessens.

"IV?"

_In...out..._

"I'm here," he croaks. His voice doesn't sound right. "I'm here."

_In...out..._

.

.

When he was thirteen, IV broke his first mirror. He can remember how the glass sliced into his skin, like it was made of nothing, like _he_ was made of nothing. It hadn't stung at first.

But _hell_, does it ache afterward. For a long time.

And he thinks that that is how it always works. When his father betrayed them, when his brother left, Ryoga, Rio, dying in the war, the scar on his face - none of those had hurt initially. The afterache, however, lasts forever.

.

.

He is twenty years old now. He is a grown fucking man.

But age does not stop the panic attack. Age does not stop the nightmares. Age does not stop him from feeling helpless, alone, and afraid.

He calls Rio, but it rings twice before he hangs up. She tries calling him back, but he rejects it. He buries his phone under his pillow and makes his way to the bathroom. Throws up. Flushes. Pulls aside the shower curtain and sits in the tub, drawing his knees to his chest and resting his head against the tiled wall. It's pounding.

The coolness of the tub and the hardness of the wall gives him a sense of reality. He can breathe again, a little. Still ragged. He doesn't know how long he stays there, but it's a long time.

When Rio sits on the edge of the tub, it scares the life out of him. He hadn't heard the door open, or her footsteps in the hall, or seen her come into the bathroom. She used the spare key he gave her. So here she is, in a sweater and pajama pants, her hair all over the place from sleep. He wants to ask _why_ she's here, but he can't seem to find the words. He stares instead.

_God_, he must look terrible. He's sweating and he's cold and he's shivering and he's hugging himself as if he was the only touchable thing on the planet. It suddenly feels harder to breathe once more - he's humiliated and -

Rio runs her fingers through his hair and says softly, "When you're ready, let's go back to bed, okay?"

And it takes a while. Getting out of the tub is a journey in itself, and making it back to the bedroom would have been impossible if he'd been by himself. IV pauses in the doorway, looking wide-eyed at his room and gulping involuntarily. Rio tugs on his arm and leads him to his bed, sits him down, and goes back to turn off any lights she had flicked on.

She lies down beside him, pulling him down with her. He lies flat on his back, rigid, arms folded across his stomach. This is so much worse. If he wakes up confused, he could hurt her. She's _right there_._ Right there_ to _break_.

Rio places an arm over his chest, gripping his shoulder and snuggling up close to him. "Go to sleep. I've got you."

It's like magic. He can't keep his eyes open. This time, though, he doesn't _fall_ (_fall, falling, fallen, fell_) asleep - he drifts.

.

.

It's the best night's sleep IV has had in years.

* * *

_~Finish~_


End file.
